


Burn It All Away

by krissybl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode Related, Episode: s05e10 Them, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krissybl/pseuds/krissybl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl can't escape his failures. They play over and over in his head until he'd do anything to block them out. He needs to hurt. He needs to be punished. He wants to burn. As he moves the lit end of his cigarette towards his hand someone stops him.</p><p>-----------</p><p>*Or, what could have happened if Rick had followed Daryl into the woods in "Them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn It All Away

The visions won’t stop. Daryl can’t even blink for the image of Beth, blood matted in her pretty blonde hair, burned into the back of his eyelids. The scenes of his failures replay over and over. The car with the cross pulling away. The confrontation that he should have stopped somehow. The shot that echoed through the hall in the hospital. The devastation on Maggie’s face as he carried her sister’s body, so slight, but heavier than anything he’d ever had to bear before. 

He just wants it to stop. Wants to clear his head. Needs to get away from the hurt in Maggie’s eyes. The pain of losing a sibling. It all tangles up with Merle and how Daryl had failed him too. He just needs to blank it all out. Needs to escape it somehow. 

Glenn tries to help. Says they can make it. Says they can only make it together. Daryl can’t take it. Can’t stand the idea of being responsible for these people and failing them again. He walks away from the group and no one moves to stop him.

He’s in the woods, trying to lose himself in the sounds of the trees and the life around him. Still all he can hear is the gunshot and Maggie’s sobbing. It alternates on a loop with the groaning of his own brother turned walker. It’s so loud in his ears backed by the thumping of his heavy pulse. No other sound exists in the world. 

He finds a spot far enough away from the group that he can’t be seen or heard. He slouches against a tree and lights a cigarette. Taking a drag, the flare and smell remind him of the old shack he and Beth burned. Reminds him that her fire was gone and wouldn’t spark again. He’s consumed by their losses. The people he’s watched die. The lives he’s failed to save. He just needs it all to stop. Needs to white out. He stares at the cherry red ember of his cigarette. Remembers how his brother had taught him to retreat into his mind during the beatings and burnings. Taught him how to block it all out. He’s been trying, but it’s not working. Maybe the pain will help. Maybe the flash-hot physical ache will wipe it all away. 

He’s just moving the tip towards his hand when someone else’s suddenly appears clamped around his wrist, stopping him. Daryl drops the cigarette in the grass, cursing himself for being so distracted that he didn’t hear someone nearby. He reaches for his knife with his free hand, survival instinct kicking in. He’s got the knife pressed to the abdomen of his attacker before he has a moment to register who it is. 

“Easy, Daryl.” The rough voice says. “It’s only me.”

“Damn it, Rick. What are you doing here?” Daryl averts his eyes and goes to replace the knife in it’s holster, embarrassed about what Rick stopped him from doing. He snatches his cigarette from the grass and stands. 

“Was worried ‘bout ya.” The leader says, eyes locked on Daryl’s. Daryl scoffs and turns from Rick’s concerned gaze. He walks away, having no words to reply. He doesn’t deserve to be looked after. Doesn’t deserve to be worried about. All his mind is telling him is that he deserves punishment for his failures. Needs pain to block out the grief. Needs the burn to cleanse him of these sins. “Daryl” Rick calls after him. “Will ya stop and talk to me?”

“Nothin’ to talk about.” Daryl keeps walking towards a barn he sees across the clearing. “Ya should get back to the others.”

“Not leaving ya alone.” Rick catches up and grabs his shoulder. He yanks the archer around to face him. Daryl doesn’t know what comes over him then, but suddenly he snaps. Dropping his cigarette again, he growls deep in his throat and slams Rick back into the nearest tree. Not expecting it, Rick can’t stop the enraged man and finds himself pinned against rough bark with a forearm across his collar bones, holding him still. 

“Fuck. Off.” Daryl hisses through clenched teeth, breath heaving in his chest. Rick stares him down, ever the leader even in his compromised position.

“No.” He says, firm. Daryl growls and leans his weight into the arm pinning Rick. Abruptly he shoves away and starts walking again. Before he takes a half step there’s a hand on his wrist again and he’s being yanked back against Rick. The leader moves lightning fast and has their earlier positions reversed. Daryl’s back is against the tree, crossbow digging into his spine. He hisses in pain and Rick suddenly stills. “Didn’t mean to hurt ya.” Rick says and removes his weight to take the pressure off the other man.

“Fuck you.” Daryl shoves Rick away now that he’s not pinned. Rick stumbles back and Daryl just glares at him. Chest heaving and pulse racing. This is what he needs. He needs a fight. He needs anger and fists and blood. Craves punishment. Wants to push his leader until he snaps and gives Daryl the pain he needs. The absolution that was interrupted.

“I’m just tryin’ to help.” Rick says as he straightens from his stumble. He takes a cautious step closer, as if approaching a wild animal caught in a trap. 

“Don’t need your fuckin’ help.” Daryl says it low and takes a swing as Rick gets closer. But he’s sloppy in his anguish and Rick intersects it easily. He grabs Daryl’s wrist and yanks him forward, grabbing the other as well as it comes up for another attempt at a strike. Rick’s got both wrists held tight and shoves Daryl back against the tree. Daryl revels in the sharp pain of the crossbow once again being jammed into his back. He can feel it particularly keenly on the sensitive tissue of old scars.

“Jesus, Daryl.” Rick’s holding the wrists above Daryl’s head, pressed to the bark, body flush against the angry man. “Will you calm down?” Daryl’s reply is an attempt to headbutt the man holding him still. He doesn’t want Rick’s restraint. He wants violence and anger. “Fuck.” Rick growls as he dodges, catching the brunt of Daryl’s attack on his shoulder. Rick shifts both wrists to one hand and keeps them pinned above their heads. His now free hand snakes behind Daryl’s neck and grips into the messy strands of his hair, hoping to keep the man from trying that move again. When Daryl still struggles Rick presses his forehead against the other man’s forcing his head back against the tree, trapping him. “You done?” Once again Daryl responds with violence, trying to kick at the man holding him still. The sound that leaves Rick’s throat is feral and deep when Daryl’s foot connects with his shin. They struggle for a few heated moments until Rick manages to pin each foot with his heels, legs bowed around Daryl’s pinning them together between his knees. 

This isn’t exactly what Daryl was looking for, but it’s a good start. His wrists are chafing against the rough bark where he’s being held in a vice-like grip. The fingers of Rick’s other hand have clenched in his hair, pulling at the strands at the base of his skull. Rick’s heels are a steady pressure on the tops of his feet, keeping him still. Trying to hold Daryl’s legs causes the leader to lean forward to keep balance. The weight of his body pressing Daryl back into the solid tree, sharp lines of the crossbow digging further into his spine and shoulder. Daryl struggles, mindlessly trying to initiate more violence. Rick makes a guttural sound and pushes his forehead harder against Daryl’s causing the rough bark to scrape into his scalp. They’re both panting, faces so close they’re breathing each other’s air. Rick lets out a deep sigh when Daryl finally stills, the heated breath passing over Daryl’s lips. 

“If I let ya go, are ya gonna hit me?” Rick’s words feel condescending and Daryl feels a new wave of anger. He grunts and struggles again pushing forward with his hips, the only part of his body he really has any control over anymore, all limbs being held by Rick. “Fu-uck.” Rick stutters out as he pushes forward with his own hips, trying to keep Daryl still. This close together Daryl can’t help but stare into Rick’s eyes. Suddenly he realizes how blown the other man’s pupils are and his anger fogged brain clears just enough to register the hot, hard line pressing into his thigh. The archer freezes again, processing this new information. Rick misunderstands his stillness and abruptly pulls away completely, leaving Daryl suddenly cold without the other man’s heat covering him from head to toe. 

“Shit.” Rick mutters and runs a shaking hand through his hair. “I’m sorry… It don’t mean nothing… I swear… I just… Fuck… Daryl, I…” While Rick is stammering through an unnecessary apology Daryl is finishing a quick re-evaluation of his options. He had wanted a fight but, a good hard fuck could work too. The archer pulls the crossbow from his back, planning to drop it to the ground, and he sees Rick freeze, hands up in a gesture of surrender. Apparently his redneck background has the leader thinking he’s some kind of violent homophobe. Sure, Merle was, but Daryl never had been.

“Ain’t gonna shoot ya, Grimes.” Daryl says low and rough as he sets the weapon on the ground. “Though I might if ya don’t get your ass back over here and fuck me.”

“Wha…” The noise Rick makes is something between a groan and a squeak of surprise. He hasn’t moved an inch and his hands are still in the air. Daryl growls in frustration, closing the small space between them in two quick strides. 

“I said,” Daryl is right in Rick’s face and he fists a hand in the material of the other man’s shirt. “Fuck. Me.” He yanks on the fabric balled in his fist and slams his mouth into Rick’s. This is no tender, tentative first kiss. It’s all teeth and rough and clutching hands. It takes a few moments for Rick’s brain to reboot and catch up, but once it has he is fully on board. 

Rick tries gentling the kiss, cupping Daryl’s cheek softly and running soothing hands through the archer’s hair. Daryl growls, bites down on Rick’s lip hard and digs his fingernails into Rick’s hip. The leader pulls back abruptly and stares into Daryl’s eyes, trying to figure out this new turn of events as he goes.

“I ain’t fragile.” Daryl rasps and yanks Rick back in. Rick seems to get with the program and crowds Daryl back the few steps to the tree they had been pressed against just a minute earlier. He presses the archer back and plants his hands on the other man’s hips, clutching with bruising force. Daryl moans into Rick’s mouth, wraps his fingers in disheveled curls and _pulls._

“Fuck, Daryl.” Rick is panting as he pulls back from the rough kiss. “What are ya looking for here?”

“Pretty sure I was clear on that.” Daryl illustrates his point by grabbing at Rick’s ass and thrusting roughly into him. Rick moans low and bites his own kiss-swollen lip as their erections slide past each other through layers or restricting fabric. 

“Yeah. Fuck you. Got that.” Rick starts “But…”

“If ya got it, why’re ya still talking?” Daryl interrupts and leans back in to silence Rick with a bruising kiss. Finally Rick shuts up and returns the kiss with equal heat, though perhaps a bit less force. Daryl wants it rougher, harder but he’ll take what he can get for the moment. 

As they continue exploring with tongues and teeth Daryl undoes the belt and fly on Rick’s jeans, desperate for this new form of distraction. Rick hisses and pulls back from the kiss when Daryl takes a rough grip on him. “Shit…” Rick slaps the archer’s hand away which earns him a growl and a bite to the shoulder. Rick yelps slightly and shoves Daryl harder against the tree. 

“Ya want me to fuck ya, I’m gonna need ya to stop touching me for a minute.” Rick hisses into Daryl’s ear, breath coming in pants. The archer stares back defiantly, but keeps his hands to himself. Instead he starts working on his own pants. When his hands are slapped again he whips his head up to stare incredulously at Rick. “I’m gonna do that.” the leader says in way of answer and starts undoing Daryl’s fly and pulls pants and boxers down to the tops of Daryl’s thighs. Rick leans in to renew their kiss and press up against the archer. Daryl obliges for a few moments, biting and sucking at Rick’s lips. Shortly though, he pulls away and tries to turn so he’s facing the tree, more than ready to get to the main event. Rick stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Uh-uh.” He says. “If we’re doing this, I want to see your face.” 

Daryl feels heat rise in his cheeks, he wants to argue. The determined look on Rick’s face makes him decide it’s not worth being stubborn. He’s been around Rick long enough to know when he won’t win a battle. Besides, there’s already been too much talking. Instead he kicks off one boot and drops his pants and boxers to his ankles, stepping out of the one boot-free leg. Rick’s gaze is locked on him as he crowds into Daryl’s space. He kisses along the archer’s neck until Daryl becomes impatient again and digs nails into his leader’s scalp. Rick retaliates by biting hard on Daryl’s lip, which only makes him moan and dig in harder. Rick pulls away to glare at him.

“What’s the matter, Grimes. Too rough for ya?” Daryl calculates the dig for maximum effect. He knows that Rick won’t stand for anyone questioning how tough he is. It works perfectly. Rick growls and moves his hands down to the outsides of Daryl’s thighs, gripping tight and hoisting the other man against the tree. Daryl’s pinned between Rick’s chest and the trunk with the bark digging oh so beautifully against his bare ass. Daryl hisses as he settles against the tree, dragging down the rough surface. He comes to rest with his legs latched around Rick’s waist and hands clamped on strong shoulders. Daryl’s pants are still hanging from one leg, and Rick’s are only lowered enough for his leaking cock to be exposed. 

“Shit, Daryl. I keep hurtin’ ya.” Rick says when he hears the hiss at being scraped along the bark. Daryl wants to scream in frustration. He doesn’t want coddling, he wants to be pounded into oblivion. 

“I ain’t gonna break, just fuckin’ do it.” Daryl digs into the small of Rick’s back with the heel of the one boot he’s still wearing. Rick groans as his bare cock rubs along Daryl’s ass.

“I may be new at this, but even I know we need slick, which we ain’t got.” Rick’s brain seems to finally be catching up with the situation and Daryl needs to get him back on track. 

“We got spit, don’t we?” Daryl digs in again with his boot and grabs for one of Rick’s hands. With one hand each occupied, Daryl slips a bit more on the trunk and relishes the scrape. He takes two of Rick’s fingers into his mouth. He soaks up the little groan that escapes Rick. If he can get the other man good and worked up, he won’t stop to ask too many questions. Daryl slathers the digits as much as he is able. Fact is, they’ve been short on water and they’re all a little dehydrated. He’s not worried. He’s hoping for the burn.

“This ain’t gonna be enough.” Rick’s looking dubiously at his barely wet fingers. 

“It’ll be fine. Let’s get the fuckin’ show on the road.” Daryl grabs Rick’s hand and shoves it towards his opening, then renews his grip on Rick’s shoulder to help hold himself up. Rick may be new at this but he must have learned something at some point because he doesn’t hesitate to circle Daryl’s opening with his damp fingers. He’s just teasing the edge though and Daryl needs more than that. He leans his head into Rick’s neck and bites down on his collarbone. Rick jerks at the attack and the tip of one finger pushes past Daryl’s rim. The archer hisses in satisfaction and grabs at Rick’s wrist trying to spur him on faster. The leader acquiesces and pushes the one finger all the way in. Daryl’s gritting his teeth at the intrusion but it's not enough. “Come on. Just do it.” He mutters low in Rick’s ear before biting down on the lobe. Rick pulls back and maneuvers his head until he can capture Daryl’s lips. As he thrusts his tongue against the archer’s he finally slips in the second finger. It’s dried in the air and the drag of it is rough and perfect for what Daryl needs. The only thing that exists in this moment is the stretch and ache and drag. Rick’s hard, hot body pinning him. Daryl’s shifting against the tree trying to get more, encouraging Rick to go harder. There’s several agonizingly long minutes where Daryl is slowly opened by the two scissoring fingers. They were ok at first, but as he adjusts to the intrusion he finds its not nearly enough of a stretch. He needs more. He pulls back from Rick’s mouth. “It’s good. Let’s go.”

“I’m bigger than two fingers. I’m not tryin’ to hurt ya.” Rick repeats his earlier sentiment. Daryl takes one hand away from Rick’s shoulder again, Rick tightening his grip on the archer to compensate. Daryl spits into his palm and holds it out to Rick until the leader does the same. He reaches beneath himself and grasps at Rick’s dripping cock. The groan that Rick produces rumbles through him and into Daryl where they’re pressed together. Daryl gathers the precum from the slit of Rick’s hot shaft and spreads it around with the saliva in his hand, coating the heavy length with what little they’ve got. 

“There. Hurry up ‘fore it dries.” Daryl’s hoping the warning will get Rick moving and he’s right. His arm latched back around Rick’s shoulder, the leader slides one hand beneath Daryl’s ass to line himself up. The first push in is like fire. He slams his head back against the tree, teeth clenched and breath leaving him in a hiss. This is what he needed. This all consuming sensation to block out everything else. This is even better than a fist fight. Rick’s sliding in slowly, dragging with too little lubrication, and Daryl can feel it all the way to his core. An ache so deep there isn’t room for anything else. He’s panting for breath and digging fingers into Rick’s back with bruising force. By the time Rick is fully seated Daryl has broken out in a sweat and his eyes are clamped so tightly shut that moisture is starting to pool in the corners.

“Fuck, Daryl. Look at ya.” Rick’s voice has gone all soft and pitying. “There’s no way this is good for ya. We gotta stop.” Daryl snaps his eyes open and stares Rick down.

“If ya stop I swear I’ll shoot ya.” He accentuates his oath by digging the heel of his boot into the small of Rick’s back hard enough to bruise. Rick groans as the force of Daryl’s movement pushes him just that little bit deeper. He can’t stop the thrust of his hips at the sensation of being buried to the hilt in Daryl. That small thrust causes him to brush over Daryl’s prostate and the archer’s vision whites out for a moment. “Fuck, Rick. _Harder_.” Daryl’s trying to push down to get more of the exquisite sensations. That too much, too full, scorching, _right there_ feeling. He can feel Rick hesitating, but with a stuttered breath the man finally starts moving in earnest. Daryl’s eyes slam closed and he focuses on the drag of Rick deep inside him, all around him. He revels in the burning stretch and the moments of white hot bliss as each thrust passes momentarily over that little bundle of nerves buried inside him. 

“God, Daryl...So tight...Fuck.” Rick is breathless and Daryl loves it. He did that. He took their fearless leader and bent him to his will. Reduced the unshakable man to whimpers and moans and animalistic grunts. 

Rick is speeding up and Daryl’s almost disappointed to find that he’s moving easier within him as his body stretches to accommodate. He doesn’t have too much time to ponder on it though as Rick slams into him over and over. His back is rasping against the tree. He knows he’ll have scrapes on his ass and bruises all along his still clothed back. Rick is panting with exertion and his thrusts are becoming erratic. Daryl’s still got his eyes closed, focusing on every stinging, blissful movement. He can feel the pressure coiling in his gut, a white hot pressure close to bursting. They’re pressed so close that Daryl’s cock is trapped between them. Rubbing against Rick’s sweat-slick skin where the leader’s shirt has ridden up. Each of Rick’s thrusts is creating delicious, sinful friction and he’s rapidly approaching release. “Fuck, Rick!”

“Come on, Daryl.” Rick breathes the words against Daryl’s neck. “I want to make you feel so good, sweetheart.” It’s exactly what Daryl thought he didn’t want. He didn’t want tenderness and emotions. He just wanted the oblivion of a rough fuck. But it’s that whispered endearment that throws him over the edge. In a rush, the coiled pressure releases. He’s shooting over Rick’s stomach and clamping down hard around the cock in his ass. Rick moans long and low, stiffening under Daryl’s hands. He’s so tight around Rick that the archer can actually feel the pulsing of the other man’s shaft as he shoots deep within him, coating his insides with wet heat. 

Daryl’s lost for anything to say as Rick gently lowers him to the ground. He’s boneless and riding the adrenaline of his release. He knows more pain is going to set in soon. Once the euphoria fades he’s going to have the sweet sting of scratches, throbbing bruises and the core deep ache that Rick will have left behind. As his awareness starts to come back he realizes that Rick has laid him down on his side and is behind him, prodding at his abused entrance with a gentle hand. 

“Damn it, Daryl. I shouldn't have let ya goad me into this.” Rick’s hand is hovering in front of Daryl’s face. He works on focusing his blurry vision to try to make out what Rick is showing him. There’s a pink sticky substance on the other man’s fingers. It takes Daryl a few moments to realize it’s blood mixed with Rick’s cum. Daryl ignores his leader and rolls over onto his back, stretching out the kinks in his limbs. He groans low and long as he takes inventory of each ache and knife-sharp pain. His back is aching, he’s got scrapes along his ass, the back of his head. His entrance is still burning and tender and blissfully stretched out. As he sits up and starts straightening out his clothes he can see bruises just forming around his wrists. Daryl hides a small satisfied smirk behind his hair as he bends forward to slip his leg into his pants. He’s going to feel this for a good long time.

When Daryl finally gets his pants and boot back in place he stands, redoing his fly and belt. He looks up to see Rick staring at him, arm up and a hand gripped anxiously into his own wrecked curls. Daryl feels a flash of guilt. His leader looks so stricken. “What the hell was that?” Rick has moved on from pulling at his hair to burying his face in both hands. Daryl takes that moment to notice that Rick has managed to tuck himself away. 

“That was nothin’ ya need to feel bad about.” Daryl says as he leans down to grab his crossbow, stifling a groan as his muscles pull and twinge. When he stands straight again he can feel Rick’s cum sliding out of his abused hole. He hasn’t bothered to clean up. It’s filthy and he loves it. He knows it will start to chafe and he’s looking forward to the reminder to help chase out every other evil thought in his head. 

“Not feel bad…” Rick cuts off on a desperate sound as he encroaches on Daryl’s space. The leader grabs the archer’s wrists, more gently than before but every bit as commanding. “I bruised you.” He spins Daryl around and lifts the back of his shirt showing off old scars and new scrapes. Daryl growls and pulls away turning back to face Rick. “You’re all scraped up. I made you _bleed_ for fuck’s sake.”

“‘S nothing I didn’t ask for.” Daryl mumbles as he readjusts the strap on his crossbow, head bowed, hair covering his eyes. Shame is starting to leak in at Rick’s outrage, opening the door for every other painful emotion Daryl has been trying to beat back. Merle’s voice is starting to drift through his mind. _Didn’t get enough from the old man? Gotta get your beating from someone else? Ya got some kind of daddy complex? Pathetic. Always knew you were a freak. Messed up little..._

The mocking voice is abruptly cut off as a gentle hand slides along Daryl’s cheek, angling his face up so that he’s looking at Rick. He wants to turn away but the look in his leader’s eyes holds him captive. It’s intense and raw. Daryl’s frozen while he waits for Rick to speak. 

“I don’t like to hurt ya, Daryl.” Rick’s voice is so sincere and Daryl’s heart clenches in his chest. This was a mistake. Rick’s probably disgusted with him now. Merle’s gearing up in his head for another reproach when Rick continues. “But if this is something ya need.” The leader’s other hand comes up so that he is cradling Daryl’s face in between his palms, keeping the archer from looking away. “Ya come to me, ok? Only me. Want to take care of ya. Want to be able to make sure you’re alright after.”

Daryl has no words to express his gratitude at Rick’s offer. No one in Daryl’s life has ever understood him. There has certainly never been anyone wanting to take care of him. Despite his hesitance Rick not only somehow gets that Daryl needs this, the physical hurt, but is offering to help. To be sure that whatever Daryl may need, that he’s safe. _Fuck. ‘M 'bout to cry like a little bitch._ Not able to speak past the tightness in his throat, Daryl simply nods, a tight jerk of his head between Rick’s hands.

“Good.” Rick nods too, satisfied that Daryl would never lie to him. He lets his hands fall from Daryl’s face to trail along the hunter’s arms in a gentle caress. He finally pulls away completely, and, Daryl thinks, a little reluctantly. “Let’s head back to the others.” Rick says as he finger combs some of the knots out his hair. Daryl complies and falls into step beside his leader. He doesn’t bother with his own hair. It’s generally messy anyway. 

As they walk Daryl’s stride is only a little stiffer than normal. He has years of practice pretending he’s not hurting. He’s cataloging each scratch and ache and thinking about Rick’s promise when his leader suddenly speaks up again, voice quiet and almost shy.

“Hey, Daryl.” Rick looks over to be sure he has the archer’s attention. Daryl holds his gaze for a moment before they both look back to the trail so they don’t trip. “Ya don’t only need to come find me when ya need it to hurt, ya know?” When Daryl doesn’t say anything Rick continues anxiously. “I mean, not that ya have to. But if ya wanted to…”

“Okay.” Daryl’s gruff voice breaks into his leader’s nervous mumbling. Rick freezes in place and looks at the archer who has stopped right by his side. 

“Really?” The hope in Rick’s eyes is breathtaking and Daryl knows there’s no way he deserves it. But you don’t survive in this world without being at least a little selfish. Daryl nods and almost stumbles when five feet ten inches of former sheriff barrels into him. His mouth is covered with hungry lips and a searching tongue begs entrance. Daryl opens for Rick and the kiss is so all consuming that it blocks out everything else. As they explore each other thoroughly with lips and hands, Daryl begins to realize that maybe he doesn’t need to hurt to escape his demons. Maybe all he needs is Rick. 

They pull apart reluctantly after several minutes. They’re still standing close together, examining each other’s flushed faces. Daryl, not being used to this kind of intimacy is the first to pull back. He clears his throat a few times before saying “We should, uh… We should probably get back to the group.” Rick smiles gently at him and begins walking. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” The leader says. And as always, Daryl is happy to follow. 

They make it back to the group just in time to see Abraham smacking a bottle of water out of Eugene’s hands. The group bickers for a few short minutes before the clouds suddenly open up and have everyone drenched within moments. They’re all frantically looking for receptacles for the fresh water when they begin to realize that the storm is more than just a summer shower. Daryl and Rick look to each other then back to their family. Together they say “There’s a barn.”


End file.
